The Dead Sea

STOP

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474 The Dead Sea.

cessary in selecting a stock, for as we can hare no manufactures here for a
long time, we must depend for supplies on other countries ; the scarcity at
present is such that almost every article sells at an extravagant price, as you
may judge from the retail prices which I quote.

" It would be an excellent time for a merchant to get rid of an old
fashioned stock. If any of your friends come out let them bring introduc-
tory letters ; they will find them of infinite service, as many persons of du-
bious character hare arrived here already. Any one who settles here
must work at first ; there is no place like an infant colony for curing idle
habits.

" The crops look very flourishingly, but they have yet to sustain the
scorching heat of the summer sun, and if it does not injure them before
they reaeh maturity, there is little doubt of their ultimate success. Some
seed of many plants and vegetables have been sown, and I have not heard
of any having failed. The rainy season is past, and the rivers which at
that time had overflown their banks, have now subsided, and left on their
banks a rich soil, which has thrown up flowers of the richest tints and per-
fume in such profusion, that you cannot set down your foot without a feel-
ing of reluctance.

" We have had several visits from the natives ; they are said to be trou-
blesome in some places, but here they have been extremely inoffensive.
Summer has only commenced, yet the weather is much warmer than I ever
experienced at home ; no person can remain abroad during the heat of the
day — but the mornings and evenings (when the sea breeze sets in) are de-
lightfully cool and pleasant."

THE DEAD SEA.

I had a dream : it was the Sea of Death,
And nigh its desert beach methought I stood.
The earth beneath me was all dark and bare ;
The awful traces of Almighty wrath
Were on its surface ; and the unseen hand,
Which makes the lightning's fury ministrant
To heaven's vengeance, had the verdure scathed,
And spoiled the ancient beauty of that land:
And o er its bosom, quenchless, with'ring flames,
From the volcano's crater, like the stream
Of Nile or Tigris, swell'd by winter-floods,
Were pour'd in fiery torrents ; and the soil,
From that dread hour, brought forth no shrub, nor herb,
Nor aught to nourish life.

The deep did seem
Becalm 'd and motionless ; and from its caves,
Where undisturb'd the dark bitumen lay,
Ascended exhalations to the skies,
So foul, so deadly, that the vital air
Became corrupt and pois'nous ; and the bird,
Which o'er its pestilential, vast expanse,
Essay 'd her flight, lo ! fell down suddenly,
As if by arrow stricken, unobserved.

No sail, methought upon that waveless sea
Had ever shone ; it would have been like hope
Amidst the blackness of adversity ;
But none appeared through all the fancied years
In which 1 seem'd to gaze upon that flood :
Nor in its waters living creature dwelt,
For they had been accurs'd, and doom'd to sleep,
Eneompass'd by a blasted wilderness,
A waveless, stagnant, solitary thing !